


Somebody to Love

by liroa15



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-29 10:46:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17202053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liroa15/pseuds/liroa15
Summary: So, no, Connor doesn’t hate being an omega. Honestly, Connor wouldn’t think about being an omega much at all, except for how everyone else treats him because he’s an omega.





	Somebody to Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hockeyyybabyyy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hockeyyybabyyy/gifts).



The common misconception is that Connor hates being an omega, which isn’t true. Sure, sometimes his biology can be inconvenient, but doctors have mostly come up with some really good drugs for that. He can schedule his heats for the summer and the bye week. It’s three or four days, and sure, they’re pretty miserable, but he’s not going to let it ruin his life. 

So, no, Connor doesn’t hate being an omega. Honestly, Connor wouldn’t think about being an omega much at all, except for how everyone else treats him because he’s an omega. Like, just because of some biological quirk they get to act like he doesn’t know anything? 

It’s bullshit; Connor’s always thought it was bullshit, and thankfully his parents were never super traditionalist. When he started showing an interest in hockey, they encouraged him. When he got old enough that it became clear that he was good, _really good_ , they did everything they could to ensure he could play wherever he wanted.

And when he was ten, that was pretty much it. Alphas and betas and omegas were mostly theoretical to everyone at that age, so it didn’t really matter. And then puberty hit, and it suddenly mattered a lot.

Connor had mostly learned to ignore the chirping about his dynamic before he’d ever made Erie as a 15-year-old. By then, it had taken a decidedly nasty turn, usually the most explicit shit that his opponents could think of. How good he’d look on his knees, how much of a bitch he was, how he didn’t know his place. 

It used to bother him. Hell, he’d gotten into a fight just to shut some stupid alpha up, and the only real result had been listening to six weeks of people asking if his fight was proof that omegas were too emotional to play competitive sports when they weren’t wringing their hands because he might not make the World Juniors team. 

Like alphas didn’t fight all the fucking time, only to receive a pat on the back when they made it back to the bench after serving their five minutes in the box. 

So no, Connor has never hated being an omega. But he’s always hated what everyone else seems to think being an omega makes him.

~

Going first in the Draft seems like vindication, an emphatic response to all the traditionalists who insist that hockey isn’t really a sport for omegas, that it’s too rough. He’s not even the first omega to go number one overall; that honour belongs to Ovechkin. And Edmonton has a couple other omegas either on their team or their system: Oscar Klefbom and Taylor Hall. So Edmonton isn’t even a bad place for him to end up, really, but Connor’s still nervous about it. 

Connor meets Taylor, call me Hallsy, before he actually gets to Edmonton, just to find out what it’s really like. 

“They’re going to hate you almost as much as they love you,” is all Hallsy says on the matter before inviting Connor to live with him and telling him the name of pretty much every restaurant in Edmonton with a decent take-out menu.

Connor agrees, a little shell-shocked. 

“It’s going to be great, Davo,” Hallsy says. “They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

~

The NHL is bigger and brighter than anything Connor’s ever experienced before, but, at its heart, it’s still just hockey. And if there’s one thing that Connor knows, it’s hockey. It’s faster, but Connor’s always been fast. It’s a little bit harder, but Connor’s never been afraid of confrontation. 

So while the first couple of months are a pretty steep learning curve, Connor’s reasonably confident in his ability to handle it. And he’s pretty sure that shows in the points he’s putting up and the number of stars he’s being awarded after the final buzzer. (The team’s still losing as much as they’re winning, but Connor’s sure that too will change in time.)

And if Connor just laughs it off when some of the alphas he sees across the faceoff dot try and put him under, well, he’s got a job to do, and it’s not like he’s looking for an alpha anyway. 

And then he goes into the boards wrong, and he can feel his collarbone give as it happens. He knows it’s not going to be good. When he gets up, the sound of Manning hissing dynamic curses in his ears, all he can do is hold his arm awkwardly as his side until he makes it down the tunnel. He doesn’t cry because there’s no crying in hockey. 

The prognosis is surgery and months of recovery, and Connor wants to scream, he wants to cry about how unfair it all is, but he can’t. 

He works hard to get back, does his rehab, and pushes himself to his utmost. The medication they’ve got him on means that he can’t take his heat suppressants, which means that when he gets back to Edmonton, he’s just coming off his heat and he smells of it.

Several of the guys react to it; Connor ignores them the best he can. He can still hear the comments they make about him when they think he can’t hear though, and it does bother him even if he doesn’t let on.

He doesn’t bother to say anything because it wouldn’t change anything. They’d just call him difficult behind his back instead of just frigid and a bad lay. 

Not that Connor really cares about that. In his experience, both subbing and sex are inevitably a giant disappointment.

“I just don’t understand why he’s gotta be such a frigid bitch,” Kass complains about his latest sub, and Connor just. He’s done. He gets up and all but runs out of the room, still dressed in half his equipment. The door slams shut behind him.

He ends up hiding out in one of the trainers’ rooms because he can’t face his own goddamn team. He’s sure that Hallsy will come and get him eventually, so when someone knocks on the door he calls, “It’s open.”

It’s not Hallsy who comes through the door, but Leon who steps into the doorway and thankfully no further. “Davo?” he calls.

“I thought you were Hallsy,” Connor says because he can’t think of anything else to say. 

“I can get him if you’d rather,” Leon says, and he sounds unsure.

“No, it’s fine.” Connor straightens his spine. “I’ll go and apologize to the room.”

Leon’s arm shoots across the doorway, like he’s trying to stop Connor from going. “That’s not why I came,” he says. “I came to see if you needed anything.”

“Like what?” Connor demands, suddenly angry. “You want to put me on my knees? Show me my place? See if everything they’re always saying about me when they think I can’t hear is true?”

Leon shrugs, completely unaffected by Connor’s anger. “If that’s what you want, but I don’t think it is.”

And that’s enough to take all the wind out of Connor’s proverbial sails. “What do you want, Drai?” he asks, tired.

“I want to know if you’re okay,” Leon says. “That’s all, Davo.”

And Connor has no clue why, maybe because some part of him trusts Leon, but he doesn’t lie. “No,” he says shortly. “No, I’m not okay.”

Leon nods, like that’s what he was expecting. “Thank you, Davo,” he says, and he sounds so serious, like Connor’s done something important.

Leon comes to sit next to him then and runs his hand up and down Connor’s back. The motion is actually really soothing, so Connor lets his head fall to Leon’s shoulder and stay there even though he’s probably going to give Leon a dead arm. Connor doesn’t know how long they sit there, only that Hallsy appears in the door, and Leon speaks to him briefly.

Eventually, Connor sits up.

“Hallsy already went home,” Leon says. “I’ll take you.”

The ride to Hallsy’s place is silent. Leon turns the radio to some top 40 station, but he keeps the volume low enough that Connor can barely hear it. 

Hallsy meets him at the door, and they order in. They don’t talk about it.

~

Kass finds him before practice the next morning, shame-faced, to apologize. Connor’s pretty sure he fumbles his acceptance, but Kass doesn’t seem to notice. A couple of other guys give him long looks during the course of practice, but none of them actually say anything, and that’s probably the most that Connor can expect.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks Leon on their way to video review.

“Of course,” Leon agrees. “After this?”

Connor nods because Coach is saying something about the Sharks defence, and that deserves all of Connor’s attention. 

~

Leon suggests that they go and get coffee, which is how Connor ends up sitting in a Starbucks downtown, hat pulled low on his head. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped yesterday,” Leon says before Connor can say anything. 

“What?” Connor asks dumbly. 

“I didn’t mean… there’s really no excuse,” Leon continues, like Connor actually understands what he means.

“I mean, it was fine?” Connor says. “I don’t know exactly what you did, but it helped.”

“You don’t…” Leon pauses. “I put you under, Davo.”

Connor stares at him. “No, you didn’t. I can’t do that.”

Leon stares at him for long enough that Connor starts to feel uncomfortable.

“Who told you that?” Leon demands, enunciating each word like a full sentence.

Connor shrugs. “Everyone I’ve ever subbed for. I’m difficult, and I don’t do what I’m told, and I’m not even a good fuck.” It’s hard to remember all the things his hookups have said, even worse to say them all to Leon, but he doesn’t flinch.

“No offence, Davo, but you’ve subbed for some remarkably stupid people.”

It’s the absolute last thing Connor expected to hear, and it startles a laugh out of him. “Probably,” he agrees.

“You were beautiful, Davo,” Leon says. 

Connor’s not really an impulsive person, so he can’t really explain why he says what he does next. “Can you do it again?” 

“I’m sorry?” Leon stutters, clearly not expecting that.

“Can you?” Connor pushes. “Or should I find someone else?”

In his experience, poking at an alpha’s pride is an easy way to get what he wants.

Leon smiles. “That won’t work,” he says. “Think about it, and if that’s still what you want, ask me again.”

Connor leaves feeling both disgruntled and intrigued.

~

Their next game, Connor is on fire. He gets two goals and an assist and is named first star. He feels great, almost invincible, and he wants to keep feeling that way. 

“Drai, can I talk to you?” Connor asks when he gets back to his stall. 

Leon gives him a long look across the room. Connor feels like something inside himself is being judged. “Ja,” Leon says, and the look in his eye says that Connor is going to enjoy this.

Connor gets dressed quickly, ignores the hoots and hollers of the guys who think he has a hot date, and heads out to his car. He’s halfway home when he gets a text from Leon that says _my place one hour_ and then includes an address. 

Connor doesn’t even think about disobeying that text.

~

Leon’s apartment is sparsely furnished, but even keeping his eyes down and sneaking glances, Connor can tell that everything is high quality. “Go ahead, look around,” Leon says with a smile. “I want you to feel comfortable here, Connor.” He pauses for a second. “Is it okay if I call you Connor?”

“Just not Davo,” Connor requests shyly. 

“Of course, Connor,” Leon agrees. “You can call me Leon or Sir, whichever is more comfortable.”

Connor tries them both out in his head but finds he just can’t wrap his head around addressing Leon as Sir, so he doesn’t even try. “Leon,” he says, and it feels right.

Leon smiles at him. “Yes, Liebling,” he agrees. “We need to talk about a few things first, so go and sit on the couch.” 

Connor goes and sits on the couch. Leon follows him and sits down beside him, close but not touching.

“How are you feeling?” Leon asks.

“Fine. Good,” Connor replies immediately. 

Leon smiles a little at that. “I’m glad. Is there anything you don’t like doing? Anything you’ve done with other Doms that you didn’t like?”

Connor shrugs because he’s not sure what to say. There’s lots of stuff that he doesn’t like or doesn’t think he’d like, but he’s not sure if he should say it.

“It’s not a trick,” Leon says. “If you want to do this, I need to know what you don’t like, or it won’t work.”

Connor sighs. “I don’t like being humiliated, called names and shit. Obviously, nothing that would stop me from playing. I like…” he pauses, trying to figure out exactly how to phrase it. “I like being good, I guess. I like being given tasks and then accomplishing them. I like being told when I’m good.”

That seems almost too personal, but Connor can’t take it back. He can only hope that Leon doesn’t abuse that knowledge.

“That’s good,” Leon says. He pauses for a moment. “And sex, Liebling? How do you feel about sex?”

Connor shrugs, not really understanding. “I mean, I like it? It’s good?”

“I don’t have to fuck you to take you down,” Leon says. “So if you’d prefer to keep sex and submission separate, I need to know.”

It takes Connor a moment to think through the feelings of hurt and rejection, but when he does, he’s thankful to Leon for giving him the choice. He gives Leon a once-over from beneath his lashes, paying special attention to his broad shoulders and his big hands. He lets his gaze linger on Leon’s face for a moment and then down to his crotch, where Connor can just see the outline of Leon’s sizeable dick through his sweats. 

Connor takes it all in and _wants_. 

“I really wanna suck your dick,” Connor replies candidly. He’s used to going after what he wants, and he doesn’t see how this is any different “I like giving head, and I like having my hair pulled. I don’t mind waiting to come, but I’m not really in to not getting to come at all. Obviously, anything that would stop me from playing at my best is a hard no.”

Leon is staring at him intently. He shifts slightly, and Connor can see that Leon’s dick is starting to chub up in his sweats.

“How do you feel about being tied up or held down?” Leon asks after a moment. 

Connor shrugs. “It’s not something I’ve had the chance to explore. I’m not opposed to it as long as it doesn’t do any permanent damage.”

Leon smiles then, something dark and a little possessive. He spreads his knees just enough that the invitation is clear. “Why don’t you come and show me then?” he commands, voice smooth. 

Connor thinks about it for a moment and then slides to his knees and crawls over to settle between Leon’s thighs. He lets his fingers rest on the waistband of Leon’s sweats until the other man nods at him before dragging the elastic down enough that Leon’s cock springs free. He’s not wearing any underwear, and he’s already half hard. 

Connor licks his lips and then leans forward, only to be stopped by Leon’s hand in his hair. Connor looks up to meet Leon’s eyes.

“Ask nicely,” Leon says. There’s nothing different about his voice, really, but something about it settles in Connor’s gut, twisting with arousal and a little bit of humiliation.

“Please,” he mumbles. “Please let me.”

Leon pulls a little, just enough for Connor to feel it. “Please what?” he asks.

“Please let me suck your dick,” Connor replies, feeling himself slipping under a little more every time Leon pulls his hair.

Leon watches him for a moment before nodding. He loosens his grip on Connor’s hair just enough that Connor can lean forward and wrap his lips around the head of Leon’s dick. 

It doesn’t take much to get Leon all the way hard. He’s got a decent-sized cock. Connor takes his time, inching down as far as he can go until he feels the head of Leon’s cock bumping the back of his throat. Connor lets Leon’s dick rest in his mouth for half a second before he starts sucking. 

Leon growls something in German then, and his fingers tighten in Connor’s hair. His hips stutter, and it’s just enough to choke Connor. He pulls back a little, coughing and eyes watering, and looks up at Leon. 

Leon rubs his thumb against Connor’s bottom lip, once, twice, three times, before he pulls his hand back. “I’m going to fuck your face now, Liebling,” Leon growls, and proceeds to do just that. Connor tries relaxing his throat, but he can still feel spit and tears covering his face. Leon pulls back all of a sudden and comes on his face. Connor manages to close his eyes in time, but it’s a near thing.

Connor drags his fingers through the come on his face and licks it off. Leon groans. “Come here, Liebling,” he commands. “Up here.”

Connor’s limbs aren’t very co-ordinated, and it’s not until he’s sitting practically in Leon’s lap that he realizes that his dick is hard as a rock and dripping precome. Leon slides a hand under the elastic waistband of his sweats and wraps a hand around him without a word and gets him off with strong, sure strokes.

Connor comes silently, biting his lip until he tastes blood and then licks Leon’s fingers clean when the Dom offers him his hand.

They sit there for a couple of minutes, Leon running a gentle hand up and down Connor’s back. He turns his head into Leon’s neck and breathes in the scent of his sweat and cologne and something distinctly Leon.

“You doing okay?” Leon asks after several long moments. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Do you have the blue Gatorade?” Connor asks because he is a little thirsty, and the blue Gatorade is his favourite.

“Mhmmm,” Leon agrees, moving him so that Connor’s sitting by himself. “I’ll be right back.”

Leon returns a moment later with a blue Gatorade. The lid’s already been removed, so Connor takes slow sips while he cuddles back up against Leon’s side. 

“How do you feel?” Leon asks him, running a hand through Connor’s hair.

“Pretty fucking good,” Connor admits. He’s coming back to himself, and he feels clearer and more focused than ever. “Is it always like that?”

Leon laughs a little and presses a kiss to his temple. It’s nice. “No, Leibling. Sometimes, it’s better,” he says.

Connor’s looking forward to finding out.

~

Connor’s laughing when he makes it back to the locker room after a post-game interview. The team played well; they won 4-1, and both he and Leon had a couple of points. Connor can see the promise in Leon’s eyes, even from across the room.

Klef slaps him on the back and grins at him. Jesse, who still hasn’t quite figured out how to be both an omega and an NHL superstar, is watching him with wide eyes. 

“Good game, Cap,” Nursey says with a grin as Connor pulls off his Under Armour and settles into his stall. Connor lets his fingers linger over Leon’s Mark, a stylized L and D in Oilers colours that rests just above his hipbone. 

“Good fucking game,” Connor agrees, looking over at Leon with a grin. “Everyone enjoy your nights.”

A couple of the guys hoot at that, but Connor doesn’t care. It’s been nearly three years since he first approached Leon, and he’s never had a single reason to regret that. Leon gets him, doesn’t think he’s too difficult or frigid or mouthy or a bad sub. 

He looks over at Leon and fucking grins because he’s going to enjoy himself and he doesn’t care who knows it.

Leon grins back and Connor knows he’s going to have a really good night. 

fin.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Title from the Queen song of the same name.  
> 2\. Hockeyyybabyyy, your prompts interested me, so I hope that you like this.


End file.
